


The Little Spoon

by kethni



Category: Veep (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 04:21:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13426707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kethni/pseuds/kethni
Summary: He was a little taller than Sue, a few inches. Nothing particularly significant. She didn’t think she’d every dated a man who was shorter, certainly none who was shorter when she wasn’t wearing heels. She had standards. Kent wasn’t particularly broad either. Oh, his shoulders were reasonable, but his chest and torso were quite narrow. His stomach was almost flat. His arms and legs were long and lean. He didn’t have the body of a man his age: neither padded by years not made fragile by the passage of time.





	The Little Spoon

**Author's Note:**

> For Anonymous, who asked for a fluffy Kent/Sue where Kent likes to be the little spoon when they sleep.

Sue had never been petite. She wasn’t elfin or delicate. The kind of diaphanous, flimsy dresses and blouses that Amy or Selina could wear were not designed for her.

Sue was tall, with long limbs, a trim waist, and an elegant figure. Sue did MMA and she ran daily. She kept herself fit and in good shape.

Her mother said she would never find a husband if she wasn’t more feminine. That since she couldn’t be small and delicate, she could at least be curvaceous.

‘Do you think I’m unfeminine?’ she asked Kent, over dinner.

He looked at her, spoon halfway to his mouth, and shook his head. ‘I think you’re extremely feminine.’

‘My height doesn’t bother you?’

‘Forgive me, but isn’t height more of an issue for men struggling to find a partner than women?’

Sue raised an eyebrow. ‘I never struggle to find a partner.’

Kent held up his hand. ‘Understood, but you appear to be in an uncharacteristically... self-questioning frame of mind. I have heard women insist on a minimum height for male partners. I’ve never heard a man suggest a maximum height for female ones.’

Sue rested her elbow on the table and cupped her chin in her hand. ‘A smaller woman wouldn’t make you feel manlier?’

It was his turn to raise his eyebrow. ‘I should hope that if my masculinity was that fragile you’d have nothing to do with me.’

Her lips twitched into a small smile. It was true that Kent displayed absolutely no anxiety about his manliness that she had been able to detect. If anything, he was secure enough to do things like wear pink boxers, have cats, or keep very close to his mother. Things that less secure men would gone out of his way to avoid, he barely seemed to even notice as potentially problematic.

‘You wouldn’t find a woman the vice president’s height more feminine?’ she teased.

Kent pulled a face. ‘That seems impractical.’

‘You could easily pick her up and carry her.’

‘I could easily pick you up and carry you,’ he said tartly.

‘Is that so?’

‘It is,’ he said. ‘And I have no desire to get a kink in my neck from kissing my partner.’

‘She’s not that short.’

‘She _is_ that short,’ he said firmly. ‘I am more familiar with her scalp than with her face.’

Sue tried not to laugh, but failed. Kent smiled at her.

‘I do like to make you laugh,’ he said.

‘I like it when you make me laugh,’ she said. ‘It’s very sexy.’

He touched the back of her hand. ‘Everything okay?’

‘Yes.’

He didn’t ask again, but he scanned her face. Looking for signs of a problem, she supposed. He never badgered her.

‘Good,’ he said.

He was a little taller than Sue, a few inches. Nothing particularly significant. She didn’t think she’d every dated a man who was shorter, certainly none who was shorter when she wasn’t wearing heels. She had _standards_. Kent wasn’t particularly broad either. Oh, his shoulders were reasonable, but his chest and torso were quite narrow. His stomach was almost flat. His arms and legs were long and lean. He didn’t have the body of a man his age: neither padded by years not made fragile by the passage of time.

Sue was not a woman given to self-recrimination, but sculpting her physique was not as simple a matter as she would have asked. Her tummy and thighs betrayed her. Men rarely seemed to struggle the same way.

Kent tweaked her nose. ‘You’re in your own world.’

‘Do that again and I will put itching powder in your exercise shorts,’ she said.

‘You _monster_.’

‘I was thinking that I put on weight more easily than you.’

Kent thought about it. ‘Different metabolisms. I need more sleep than you do.’

‘You do sleep too much,’ Sue said.

‘That’s not what I said,’ Kent argued.

‘It’s essentially the same thing.’

They had sex on their first date. He invited her around for a home-cooked meal, and then took her to an outdoor concert in the park. It had been an odd date by any measure, but strangely casual in a way that she had enjoyed. Kent was an organised and efficient chef. He had her sit at the table watching him cook while they chatted, about the meal, about work, and about a dozen tangential things. He was as confident cooking as he was self-doubting at the concert. Sue rarely had patience for timidity, but in Kent she found the combination quite appealing. He drove her home, his hand touching her knee now and then, and she invited him in.

His obvious surprise and pleasure had made her smile. Sue loathed being taken for granted. He hadn’t expect to be invited in, he hadn’t assumed it would happen, and that added sweetness to it.

‘Your mother has some very odd ideas,’ Kent said, while she was brushing her teeth. ‘There isn’t one kind of feminine and one kind of masculine. I think there’s a spectrum. There seems to be a spectrum for everything else.’

He wandered away. Never one to labour a point. Sue rinsed her mouth and swished around her mouthwash. She found him in the bedroom brushing oil into his beard.

‘Why do you do that?’ Sue asked.

‘To ensure it isn’t too scratchy and irritating for you.’

Sue undressed and pulled back the covers. ‘It’s for my benefit? I don’t do anything for you.’

He shrugged. ‘If you wanted to grow out your leg hair you could put conditioner on so that it doesn’t stab me in the shins.’

‘Hilarious.’

‘Back hair?’

‘I don’t have back hair,’ she said severely.

Kent got into bed beside her. ‘Are you sure? I have a better view of your back than you and –’

‘If you want to have sex tonight, then you should stop talking.’

He snapped his mouth shut.

Sue rolled onto her side to face him ‘I’m quite tired,’ she said.

He faced her. ‘Okay.’ He stroked her cheek.

‘Nothing too energetic,’ she said, slipping her hand onto his hip.

He kissed her softly. ‘Yes, Ma’am.’

That had been one of the pleasing surprises about moving in together. When the initial heady excitement had worn off, and it always did, they were comfortable being comfortable. Sometimes sex was screwing on the kitchen counters, knocking containers and dishes across the room, and sometimes it was making love in the bed; quiet, gentle, and easy.

Sue sighed against his shoulder. He stroked her back. A few minutes later he rolled over. Sue propped her head up as he tidied up.

‘Okay?’ Kent asked, moving back to her.

‘Very okay.’ She kissed him. ‘What?’

‘Nothing,’ he said innocently.

‘I know that face.’

‘Can we cuddle?’ he asked.

‘You are in incorrigible,’ she said.

‘Sorry,’ he said, trying to look guilty. He wasn’t very successful.

Sue rolled her eyes. ‘Roll over.’

He was a little taller than Sue, a few inches. Nothing particularly significant. Kent wasn’t particularly broad either. Not too tall or too broad for her to spoon behind him.

She draped an arm around him, and kissed his neck.

‘Some people would think this isn’t very manly behaviour,’ she murmured.

‘I pity them never knowing the joy of being the little spoon’, he said sombrely.

Sue smiled to herself. ‘Go to sleep.’

‘Yes, Ma’am.’

The End.


End file.
